Thursday, December 1, 2011


The Bear

We speculated on the
nature of the four
sturdy women camped
half mile out the
arc of beach, sifted
through the evidence, drew
our prurient conclusions,
logic bent to serve a
tasteless master. The bear,
on the other hand, drove
a shaft of certainty through
the heart of the night.
Stuck between his woods and
the Big Lake, we squatted
on a patch of sand waiting
for the northern lights or
the jack of diamonds or
another drink, or an off-shore
wind to blow the
mosquitoes back into the
trees, our ears pricked up
at the rasping chuff coming
from somewhere just
beyond the glow of our
lantern. Lulled and blinking
we huddled, shielded by
smoke from a thousand
cigars. “We’ve got to
challenge her before she
comes into camp”, he
said, then shouldered his
way into the darkness. Nothing
could coax me into the
black night full of trees
that spoke and ravens
who could tell the

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